Isolation
by Slade J. Wilson
Summary: An AU fic. Rey has never met Kylo Ren 'till she wakes up one day in a room. But why does he want her there? Might turn out Reylo. Might go M in later chapters.
1. Waking Up

**I've had this idea for a while (few days after I saw the second movie)in an AU where Kylo is driven with loneliness for another force sensitive person (key word person) to talk to. We meet Kylo in the next chapter so be patient. PLEASE FOLLOW AND FAVORITE.**

When I wake up, I notice everything is drastically wrong with my immediate surroundings. I'm not in my bed or more accurately my cot. The sheets I'm cocooned in feel luxurious, like real cotton, not like my regular synthetic ones. Sitting up, I study my surroundings with controlled breaths.

The entire room isn't familiar at all; It's larger, spacious. It reminds me almost of a spare room inside someone's mansion, or a hotel room at the very least. A white and plush carpet square covers half of the floorboards. There are two metallic bedside drawers on each side of the bed, and that's it. No other important pieces of furniture but the bed. A plastic tray on one bedside table to the left of me near a dome lamp with what looks like a glass of an orange drink and a pitched of chilled water.

I look at the wall expecting to see a window to outside but Instead I see a large window revealing that we are not on a planet. I can see the stars in the distance and no planets near. I'm instinctively filled with anxiety.

 _This must be a rich man's ship._

 _So where the hell am I? What am I doing here?_

My eyes dart around the room again as the panic settles in even deeper. I definitely don't remember coming here. In fact, I don't remember much of all last night, except for heading out with a vague acquaintance to scavenge off a recently crashed Order ship.

 _So why am I here, of all places? More importantly, Who put me here? Why?_

Panicking isn't going to help though, I tell myself, trying to remain calm. There has to be a reasonable explanation as to why I'm here.

As I try to think back rationally on the events of last night, it sinks in just how uncomfortable I feel. I feel... different somehow. My nose feels particularly clogged up and my head is aching dully. It could just be the effects of being in orbit, but that doesn't seem to make sense.

As I scan through my memory of what had happened last night, I come up blank, as far as what happened after we went to the ship.

I remember certain things: Drinking a few sips of water out of a canteen while getting ready. Heading out to one part of the wreckage, then changing our minds because it was too dangerous and going out to the next place. I can't remember how we left the wreckage, or why I ended up here in this unknown place, in this comfortable bed.

 _God, what had I done last night to get me here in this room?_

Throwing the sheets off me, I glance down at what I am wearing, checking. It's still the same tattered clothes I always wear, so someone hadn't bothered to undress me at the very least. At least I hadn't been picked up by some slave runners and raped here in this bed. _Or had I?_

Sliding out of the bed, my bare feet hit cold floorboards and I shiver, moving towards the door quickly. If there is one thing I want to do, its find my staff and sandals, and find where I am as quickly as I possibly can, maybe even try to steal something. Looking at the control panel, I try to open the door.

I feel my blood turn cold as night as I try to press the button again, this time using both hands. With all the strength I have in both hands, I yank and pull between the door trying to get the door to come open with brute strength. It doesn't budge an inch. It won't open, I realize in terror. I'm trapped. _Now why the hell would someone shut me into a room like this? What is going on here?_

I breathe in and out slowly to keep myself calm as I assess the situation. I feel all the little hairs on the nape of my neck rise when I realize what must be happening outside that door, in another room of the ship. There is a monitor on the ceiling, no doubt recording me while I move around the room. It can only mean one thing:

 _Someone is watching me. But who and why?_

"Who are you?" I bring myself to ask in a confident and loud voice at the camera, my eyes growing wet and stinging. My voice seems to echo around the room creepily. "What do you want from me? Why am I here like this and why did you bring me here?" I pause, breathing loudly.

I don't know why I am expecting for the monitor to answer back, but what I do know, is that some sick pervert is watching my every movement. When no answer or noise comes in response, anger burns within me. "Listen, why is the door locked?"

 _I won't freak out_ , I tell myself, over and over, when still no response comes. I grit my teeth, staring up into the face of the monitor helplessly, wrapping my arms around myself, squeezing tight.

 _I won't be defeated in this situation. Whoever is doing this obviously has money to spare._

I let my heart race.

 _Could it be... My parents?_


	2. Meeting

**Hey this chapter is a little longer and we first meet Kylo. Feel free to suggest anything. READ AND REVIEW.**

The unexpected sound of footsteps walking calmly towards the door of the room I'm locked in makes me reel back from the window, immediately alert and tense. Unsure of what to do and what is the best way to protect myself without a weapon. I hear a key code being typed in.

 _Will this finally be my parents?_

I feel so excited but tense in the same second. I've never known nor known of my parents, they abandoned me on Jakku when I was an infant. Selling me to a scrapper to look through wreckage.

Shivering with excitement. Though in caution I still move myself against the back wall. My eyes on nothing else but what awaits me behind that door. When the person finally does step into the room, I size them up, taking inventory of a few important things.

This person is a male, judging by the clothes they are wearing and their body type and build. Tall, at a little over six feet. Slender and muscular at the same time, in a black cloak with a black tunic over it. I can see the insignia of The First Order on his arm.

I can't see his face. His face is covered in an ominous and faintly familiar mask. I assume he can see out of it but I can't see into it. He stops as soon as he enter the door frame.

He just stands completely still obstructing the only way out of the room,

But even with the mask I see the wide-eyed caution in his mannerisms as he moves towards me. Without really meaning to, I straighten my self out, hitting my shoulder against the wall with a short hiss of pain. That causes him to immediately stop and raise both hands in my direction. As if to show he means no harm.

"You don't need to be afraid," he finally speaks in a voice hardly above a whisper. "I would never seriously hurt you, Rey."

 _Seriously? What does he mean by that?_

My heart seems to plummet below my navel in dread when I hear him say my name. Stars, he even knows my name. How could he know who I am? His voice sounds familiar to me. I know I have heard that voice before, just like I have seen that uniform and insignia before. But not for the life of me can I put two and two together right now.

Thankfully, he's definitely inexperienced, whoever this guy is. He hopefully done this before, kidnapping someone and locking them away in a room. At least he's not a sleazy man so if I'm to be sold as a prostitute it will be higher end. This does little to reassure me.

"That's a lie."

I say furiously before I am able to stop myself. "You say you won't ever harm me, yet... what are you doing right now?" Though I don't want to glance away for a single second out of fear he will attack, I move my eyes around the room for emphasize to make my point before meeting his gaze again. "Then what the kriff do you call this? Are you going to sell me as a slave?"

"I'm not doing this because I want to hurt you. This isn't why I am doing this." He limply responds as though he has to.

"Then _why_ are you doing this to me? What do you plan to do to me exactly?" I hate how weak my voice sounds. It betrays me, I don't want to give this guy the satisfaction of knowing I'm frightened out of my wits.

" _How_ did I even get here? Who _are_ you?"

The man's discomfort and stress seems to get even more obvious as his eyes flicker around the room again. "You don't remember?"

 _Remember what?_

I catch it out of the corner of my eye as he starts moving towards me again with measured slowness. I move blindly to the side. I don't want him anywhere near me, not knowing what he intends to do to me or why he is doing this to me. He stops still again, watching me. The way he stares so piercingly, even through that mask. It's disturbing. He shows his hands to me again, in what I suppose he feels is a placating manner. It has the opposite of its intended effect. Nothing really could calm me down right now, not until I completely understood.

"I went out last night to scavenge with a friend." I suck in a deep breath. _Keep calm, Rey. Try to get him to talk. "_ Did you bring me back here yourself?" He nods once, his eyes again on nothing else but me.

"I did, yes. I carried you back here myself."

He carried me back here? But then why can't I remember that? Surely it wasn't that chaotic last night. "And then what? You put me to bed?"

"Of course, I did." He shrugs, like its no big deal to him. "You were passed out, Rey. What else could I do?"

 _I don't drink though?_

"And what did you do to me when you bought me back here and put me into bed while I was passed out?" I demand angrily, though a part of me is petrified by truly knowing what the answer might be to that question. "What? Cop a feel while you knew I couldn't do anything about it like the... the psycho that you obviously are for doing this to me?" He could have done literally anything to me, couldn't he have? Raped me and done perverted things while I was knocked out cold.

 _Oh, god, he could have done all sorts of sick and twisted things to me._

He glances away quickly, as if embarrassed. "Believe it or not, necrophilia isn't really my thing. If I _was_ going to do anything like that with you, I would prefer it to be with you awake and it consensual."

 _Consensual? Yeah, like that will ever happen..._

"Right. And you expect me to believe that?" I mutter, eyeing the open doorway again. He's standing about a meter away from it. I could easily get past him, if I was quick enough. Really, I just want to get out of here already. I just want to be free of this situation completely. "Can I go home?" I ask desperately. "What I really want right now, is to back to Jakku."

"This _is_ your home now," I think I hear him mumble. It's very nearly enough to push me over the edge.

"Home? _Here_? This is _not_ my home, and I have _no idea_ who you are!" I glance at him in disbelief, enraged. I really wish he would take that stupid mask off so that I can see his face. "Why are you wearing that stupid thing over your head and are hiding your face from me? Why don't you take it off and show me who you really are already?"

The man pauses for a moment. I can tell he is trying to come up with an excuse. "I just can't. Not yet, Rey." Despite my furious shouting at him, he seems patient and calm. "I don't think you are ready for that quite yet."

 _Not ready? Is he kidding me?_ "Why wouldn't I be ready? I think you're just mainly too scared to show your face to me because you're _nothing more_ than a _coward._ " I press my lips together, telling myself sternly to shut up. I really shouldn't be antagonizing this guy, especially when realistically whether I die or live comes down to him. I just can't help it.

Making up my mind, I start to cross the room briskly. Without even touching me he forces me back to where I stood.

 _HE HAS THE FORCE!_

I try to hit him and lash out with my arms, even use my fingernails to claw at whatever bit of his skin I can find, but he manages to catch me without ever moving.

"Let me leave," I snarl, trying to move my feet. I manage to kick him in the shin with the back of my ankle and he makes a loud noise, but it isn't enough to completely throw him off. "Just get _the_ kriff away from me! Who are you and what do you _want_ from me?"

"You can't leave me and I can't let you," he breathes roughly. This is a big thrill to him, having me fight, I realize. "I meant what I said. I have no intentions to hurt you, not ever. But I can't let you leave, not until what I bought you here for in the first place is complete."

 _What he bought me here for in the first place?_


	3. Motives

This chapter is a little more OOC for Rey but it was hard to write her as being a victim without changing her a bit. Rey is fairly independent but for the story to really work I needed to make her a little more distressed. Also I know she's incredibly poor but I don't really want to punctuate every sentence with "I'm not used to clean water" so I changed that a bit as well. One last thing in this there's no voice changer on Kylo's mask so his regular voice is used. READ AND REVIEW.

When he finally releases his hold on my wrists, he backs away from me. I straighten my back up, in the struggle we worked our way to the floor. We're both out of breath and sitting on the ground, with him leaning against the wall.

He's panting loudly from what just happened. Only when I steal a look at him I realize he enjoyed it more than I did. I can tell he is finding it hard not to gloat as he tries to regain his breath.

What? Is this such an enjoyable game to him? Is he that twisted that he actually enjoyed me trying to escape?

It's only when I've calmed down and my breathing is back to a fairly normal pace that things become glaringly obvious to me. I feel more thirsty than I did a few seconds ago, but I refuse to drink any of the other beverage or water on the drawer unless he can prove to me that he hasn't put some poison in it or some type of sedative. In this situation I can't take a risk.

I also find myself needing to relieve myself badly. I don't know whether its what just happened and the fear I felt while he restraining me, or just the fact that I actually drank water last night, but I feel ready to burst.

I glance around the room again. Where does he possibly expect me to relieve myself when I need to?

"What's wrong?" he asks quietly in concern. When I glance at him again, I see his brow is furrowed in confusion.

What's wrong? How dare he have the gall to ask me that. Everything is wrong here!

"I... I need to relieve myself. Where am I supposed to go if? Or do you just expect me to go in my clothes or in a pot?" I can't help the apprehension that escapes my tone.

He looks up at me slowly, despite his face being covered he is clearly embarrassed.

What the kriff is wrong with him? He abducts me one minute and is ashamed at actually doing it the next.

"Of course I don't expect you to go in your clothes, Rey. I want you to feel comfortable and r-relaxed here." He falters and the last words.

I can't stop myself from flinching when he stands up only, towering over me. Then I see one of his hands move, and I flinch even more when he outstretches it to me, fingers splayed. I don't want him touching me at all. I don't want his hands anywhere near me.

"It's all right," he whispers in a soothing voice, like I'm a child. "I just want to help you up."

"No thank you," I mutter stiffly, getting up on my own. His hand disappears into one pocket of his robes, and I almost sense that he is going to bring something bad out, like a blaster or a crossbow. My anxiety is slightly reduced when I see its just a man's dress belt, probably even his.

"Put both hands out in front of you," he orders patiently. "I know you probably don't want me to do it, but it's a... necessary precaution. That way, I can show you where the bathroom is."

Obeying him only because I am dying to relieve myself and nothing more, I hold my hands out obediently in front of me. I can't breathe properly when he starts tying my wrists together in front of me. I notice the way he ties it, almost effortlessly. It may be a force thing, I never really understood how that worked. Or I may be one of many victims...

"You've done this before," I whisper, allowing fear to seep into my voice. He ignores me and threads one side of the belt through the other. "Am I your first victim? Or one of many?"

I don't know why I am bothering to ask, especially when I don't truly want to know. Growing up on Jakku toughened me to most threats but I had never been stolen before. I don't want to know how many other girls he has kidnapped and held in this room; If he is a slaver. But talking and keeping up conversation seems to help with the ordeal I'm in right now.

When I muster enough courage to glance up at him, I think his eyes look away a little. Really, I don't know why I keep bothering to look at him anyway. It isn't like I can see his face with that stupid mask covering it.

"You're my first and only," he says, giving the belt one last yank. I guess he feels its secure enough, because he's moving away from me and towards the door. I follow him, though not willingly. "I've never done this before. But if you mean this exactly, in tying knots, I've done this before...yeah." He says it like its meant to be a joke, something to make me laugh. Only I don't laugh. I find nothing laughable about this situation at all.

"Well, aren't I lucky then?" I spit out angrily. "I'm your first trial subject. So what happens after I die? Will you find another replacement girl to do this to?"

He makes a grunting noise as if he is offended by my comment and startles me by placing a strong hand on the lower part of my back, pushing me along in front of him. "There won't be another to do this to. I'm a one woman type of man." Reaching a door in a narrow, carpeted hallway, he pushes it wide open, stepping back. "I'll wait right outside here. This here, is your bathroom. I have my own downstairs that I use so you don't have to worry about me invading your privacy."

Downstairs. I knew this man was rich but two whole floors! I mentally take note of that. There is another floor and I'm on the top one in a room.

"You can even feel free to use the spa-bath, for however long and for however many times a day you like. I want you to feel like this your new home or... a holiday." The words rush out of him but I ignore them. Simply because I feel so angry at his words.

When I try to shut the bathroom door on myself for some privacy, I find it difficult with my wrists bound together the way they are. Maybe seeing that I am having trouble, he somehow closes the door by looking at it. The second it closes, I feel all the tension instantly leave my body.

The bathroom is all white tiles and a big-spa bath and mirror. White clean fluffy towels hang on racks. I can't imagine how wealthy this man must be. It's tough to use the bathroom with my hands tied, but I manage. I look around quickly, searching for something, anything I can use that would come in handy. There is really nothing, though. Nothing in any cupboard that he has accidentally left in there. Can you use soap as a weapon?

He obviously has been planning this for awhile, so he meticulously thought about removing any potential weapons that I could somehow use on him. At least he hasn't attacked me badly yet, but I still want to know his reasons into doing this to me.

I know he said he has never done this before in kidnapping someone. I definitely don't trust him but he seemed to be genuinely uncertain about what to do. I'm at even mire of a loss for why he would take me. He's obviously a man of power and wealth and I'm a poor orphan from Jakku. I can't imagine a reason he would single me out. But despite the odds he's doing this to me. Automatically, I think that alone should make me suspicious of his motives.

I hate that I hadn't tried to force that stupid mask off his head while I had the chance. I should have tried while I was struggling beneath him on the ground. I think it is what I need to see the most; See his face and what he looks like, and to be totally sure whether I know him or not. It would also help in him seeming more human and less of a monster if I could actually see all of him.

Forcing my troubles at the back of my mind for a second, I wash my hands, luxuriating in the feel of clean water. Glancing up at my reflection in the mirror, I realize I looks like hell. My eyes are swollen and puffy. My normally put up long hair is tangled, frizzed and down.

As soon as I finish and manage to get the door open, I see him leaning against the metal wall. Once he notices me, he turns and helps me shut the door, again with his mind.

"Let's get you back inside the room now," he says in a strangely gentle tone.

I have no choice but to allow him to push me along through the narrow and dark hallway. I feel my body go cold once we reach the open doorway into that room. I don't want to go in there, not just yet, because I know if I do, he'll just lock me in again. Who knows how long I will be forced to spend in there? Days? Weeks? Months? What if I die in that room?

"Please," I beg forgoing dignity, going stiff and rigid at the idea of dying in that room all alone without so much as knowing where I am. "I don't want to die just yet. So if this is the main reason that you are doing this... please don't kill me." A sob escapes my throat as I try to stare him down as pleadingly as possible. Maybe if I try to reason with him, it will eventually sink through to him about how wrong every part of this is? "I'm only twenty two. Surely you know that, right? Why would you want to kill me?"

I know I have succeeded in breaking him when he has to look away. I avert my eyes as he unties the tie with stumbling fingers. I think I sense a flicker of pity in him as he looks at the floor, now avoiding my gaze. His reaction to my plead demonstrates that he isn't completely a heartless monster in doing this to me. He can be slightly empathetic, too.

He looks like he's about to speak but then he hesitates. He shakes his head, before finally starting in a low voice, "Killing you is not my intention at all, Rey. With you dead, everything about this would be pointless. I wouldn't get what I...I wanted if I killed you."

I feel a huge wave of relief hit me as I wrap my arms over my waist, squeezing tight in an effort to stop myself from shaking so furiously. He sounds truthful enough that I believe it isn't his main intention to kill me. I've always been a good judge of character but I don't want to let my guard down.

It would only be foolish to get my hopes up and believe him entirely.

He has already accomplished getting me here and keeping me locked away in this room. Hell, he practically even got on top of me while I was fighting against him on the floor, trying to escape through that door. Despite me not knowing where to go. I sensed a feeling a cruelty then too, It tells me he is unstable and dangerous. The fact he had it in his mind to do this to me, It shows his pathway of thinking isn't one of a sane mind. Why should I trust his word when obviously he is messed up.

"Okay," I whisper, trying to remain calm and think rationally. "So you don't intend to kill me while you have me here like this."

It isn't easy to remain calm though, not when I feel absolutely terrified. I feel like I'm on-guard, like I'm extra vigilant. I don't want to so much as glance away from him or lose track of what he is doing for even one damn second in case I miss where he is about to attack me or do something else highly unpleasant to me. There are all these thoughts going through my head, all these possible motivations. If I could just firstly establish what it is that he wants from me...

"Is this about money then? Are you... trying to hold me ransom by doing this?" Despite the situation the ridiculousness of the statement almost makes me smile.

He still won't look me directly in the eye, but I hear the scoff he makes, like I am being amusing and ridiculous. He shoves the belt he untied back into his jacket pocket.

"If this is what its about- you holding me for ransom, a bargaining-chip for money- then... you're going to be very disappointed. I don't know where you have somehow gotten it into your head that I-"

"-It's not about money and it never will be about anything like money," he cuts me off impatiently, raising his head and meeting my eyes again. It's like I am pissing him off by coming to that conclusion.

Oh, well. Excuse me.

"I have enough money to last me the rest of my life, so why would I need more of it?"

He has enough money to last him the rest of his life? My mind goes into overdrive at that statement. I knew that we're on a ship that can jump to hyperdrive judging be how far we are from Jakku. He has two whole floors to himself. He can't be doing this for money in a trade-off for my life. There goes all my little theories, though. Why else can he be doing this then? I wrack my brains. Why else do crazy people kidnap other people for, if its not for monetary reasons or because they intend to murder them eventually?

I look at the floor while considering my situation.

Somehow, I sense him staring at me. When I lift my eyes to his mask again, I realize he is. Even the way he looks at me, its enough to make me feel as though cold sand It's disturbing. He is the first one to break eye-contact again, looking down at the floor. At least I know he isn't completely heartless. He has to pity me, which is ironic, seeing as he is the one that is responsible for me being like this as I am right now.

But then I think back to how familiar he seems. His clothing, the way he speaks, that insignia. I think I know him, but no matter how hard I try to remember and make that connection, I come up blank, each and every single time.

Could this be why he has taken me? Because we have met once before?

"You seem very... familiar," I observe. "Your clothes and your voice. I've met you before?" It's impossible to know whether I am right on that. The stupid mask he is wearing keeps any visible facial emotion from him concealed. I have only seen what he wants me to see and he seems very keen to avoid letting me see more. "We've met once before, haven't we?"

I think I see him look away briefly. I take that as a confirmation that I'm getting close. "We have met once before, yes." His voice is so low and soft, I can barely hear him. He's tense. I think I have him panicking. "But right now, that doesn't matter. Is there-"

"-No, it does matter," I get out over him, my voice rising shrilly. "It matters to me! I want to know who you are, and I want to know right now! If we've met before then... why are you doing this to me?" I shake my head, my eyes stinging. "Did I do something wrong that made you feel I deserve to be treated like this, like some..." I look around the room again wildly, "...Some slave that you lock away in a room?"

He recoils, turning away from me and towards the door with his back to me, and I know I have at last succeeded in breaking him down. It pleases me to no end, making me feel like grinning like a half-crazed person. He should feel bad about this. This is so wrong. All of it.

"Oh, that's right," I hear myself mockingly laugh. I am trembling; my arms at my sides, hands clenched into tight fists. "Just go back out that door and lock it up and leave me here to die without even being considerate enough to show me your face or tell me your reasons why!"

He stops abruptly at my words and I consider that I've pushed him too far. I want to back into to the safe area of the room, yet I refuse to be the one to show how distraught I am over this. If I do, its him winning. I don't want him to win.

He stands in the doorway perfectly still, like he is waiting for me do something, his hands clenched at his sides. Maybe he is even waiting for me to continue carrying on so that he can feel justified in doing something cruel to me, With his powers I can't be sure of what he'd do. He turns halfway to look at me again while staring at me for a very long, very haunting moment.

"I'll return in about ten minutes once you are done with your little tantrum," he says, his voice soft with emotion. But little tantrum? How else does he expect me to react to this unthinkable, bat-shit crazy situation? "I wish you could believe me when I tell you that I have no intentions of hurting you, Anastasia." He sniffles quietly. "What happened before, when you tried to run through the door... it was only because you made me do it. I will try to be as reasonable as I possibly can, but if you keep trying to run and escape, then it is only natural that I am going to fight back." His voice breaks on the last few words.

"Well, how about you just tell me what you want from me already and then I wouldn't try to escape?" I demand. Pleased by the strength in my voice down despite the violently shaking of my body revealing otherwise.

He ducks his head, thinking that over for a moment. It's like he is worried that he will reveal too much. I know I've won, when he sighs loudly through his mouth. "All I want, is for you to get to know me and for me to get to know you." He lifts his head, meeting my eyes again, his words broken, despondent. "It's all I've... ever wanted. Now is that so unreasonable and terrible to you?"

I stare at him, incredulous. What? He wants us to get to know each other? I make myself calm down before responding. "You want for us to get to know each other?" I repeat slowly.

"Yes, that's all. That's it."

It really doesn't make any sense. "Then why wouldn't you just talk to me or... I don't know? Or introduce yourself like a normal person." But then, I have to remind myself, that I am not dealing with such a normal person here. Clearly, his mind doesn't work the way mine does. "If you wanted to get to know me like you say you do, then why would you resort to doing this to me? In keeping me locked up in this room? Stealunf me?"

I feel the irritation building in his eyes as he stares at me as I say it, hardly blinking at all. God, why does he have to stare? It's terrifying enough as it is without him staring at me.

"And what?" He snaps at me without warning, raising his voice. I recoil at his tone, flinging my arms over myself protectively. I've made him angry for some reason, and I don't know how. "What? You are saying that you would actually agree to talk to me?" He spits every word out, disbelief there in his tone. "Yeah, right."

"I'm sure I would have agreed to it if you had asked me like any normal person would!" I shout at him, starting to tear up. I didn't want to cry in front of him, but its like I can't stop.

"How about you let me go now, and we can can go back to Jakku and talk normally?"

The urgency I feel for it to happen, for him to release me before I have to stay an awful full day in here. What if this is the day my parents come back? I don't like the planet but it's the only thing I know.

"Right now, we'll go get food and talk and get to know each other. I wouldn't tell anyone about any of this, about you taking me here, and we can just forget this."

I step closer towards him, holding my arms out towards him pleadingly. This time, he is the one to recoil back, distancing himself even further from me.

I force a tight-lipped smile on my face, knowing I look a mess with wet, red eyes from crying. "Doesn't that sound nice? Keeping me here, like this, I'll just feel like a prisoner and I won't be able to grow to be friends with you, because at the back of my mind... I'll resent you for doing this to me, deep down inside." I try to speak slowly and clearly.

Though there is no way in kriffing hell that I want to touch him, I force myself to, grabbing his black gloved hand. His glove is warm and leathery, and I can feel the sinewy strength in it. His hand is much bigger than mine, he could effortlessly wrap his fingers around my throat; A disturbing observation to make.

"Please. If you let me go now, though... I would see you as so wonderful and kind and someone I would truly love to get to know, rather than this... disgusting loathsome person that is trying to hurt me and hold me captive." I don't really know what I am trying to do exactly, but I think I am trying to reason with him. "We can go back to Jakku and do whatever you want. Okay?"

I can tell he is seriously considering my offer. He's indecisive and conflicted, I think; He doesn't like me getting emotional and begging to be released, and maybe it wasn't something he expected I would do once he got me here. He brings his other hand up, and it takes all I have not to let my fear and distaste show, when he rests it against my cheek, holding his slightly warm glove to my skin in a disturbingly affectionate way.

I can feel his heartbeat. It's speeding up in ecstasy over getting to touch me. But then he changes in a drastic way that sucks all hope out of me. He shoves my hand away brutally like my touch alone disgusts him, and I see the way his shoulders straighten up. "I'm not blind like you seem to think I am," he breathes heavily. "I know full well what you are trying to do, and I wouldn't waste your breath. You are here because I am incapable of leaving you alone anymore, and here is where you will stay until you start to yield to what I want."

Yield to what he wants? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"So tell me what you want? I...I thought you said that you wanted us to get to know each other?"

"That isn't just it," he hisses in frustration. "I want to give you the galaxy."

Give me the galaxy? "You can give me freedom," I point out, edging closer. "Freedom is more than good enough. All you have to do is-"

"Don't ask, Rey. Don't ask me to give you that. Anything but that."

He's cold and evil and distant when he turns his back on me and ignores me, striding towards the door. I can hardly muster another word or plea through the shock when he slams the door shut loudly on me, locking it back up so I can't leave.


	4. Information

Again Rey is OOC in this one same reasons as last time. Kylo Ren will be a bit OOC and more nervous with less confidence or anger. READ AND REVIEW. Also for some of the words that are more scifi-ey I didn't know what to do so tell me if you know a better word.

When I hear the key code being inserted into the lock again about twenty or so minutes later, I rush towards the bed, sitting down with my back facing the door so I won't have to endure seeing him again when he comes in.

I don't want to so much as even have to look at him right now, because it makes me feel overwhelmed with emotions when I do. Anger, desperation and confusion. I'm afraid that if I do let myself look at him again, it'll only just spur me on to try to do something stupid to him.

The door creaks open and then... nothing. It's impossible to know what he is doing behind me, but I'm determined not to look in his direction. If he wants to keep me locked in here, then I refuse to show him any sort of respect, because he clearly isn't showing me it in exchange. Why should I respect him when he doesn't even respect my request to be freed out of this miserable room?

Even from where I sit on the mattress, facing the wall stubbornly while I fiddle with the loose fringes of my clothes. The blankets strewn halfway across my knees, I can sense and feel him staring at me.

"I'm sorry," I think I hear him mumble, and its then I can't help glancing behind my shoulder. I just need to be sure that he isn't close to me, that he won't try attacking me. I find him standing a fair distance away by the open door. One hand disappears into his jacket, then he pulls out that dress belt again. "Just please..." It's like a desperate whine as he pants shallowly, "Please don't hate me."

I deliberately turn to look at the wall again, focusing on a faint smear on the eggshell-colored paint. I don't bother saying anything in response. He should feel sorry and while I think hate is going a bit too far at just having met him, I do feel I hate him in some way. Should I pretend otherwise and try to ease his mind just for the sake of making him feel better?

"There just wasn't any other way. I didn't know what else to do."

I have to press my lips together to stop myself from giving in to the temptation of shouting back at him, my eyes starting to sting with tears.

"Like I just said, I'm... sorry. Sorry that I lost my temper a couple of minutes ago. I know I seem... cruel, but its the only way. I don't want to hurt you and I am not going to, I swear to you. I just want to get to know you and for you to get to know me, that's all."

I can't do it. I can't keep quiet anymore. "And I told you," I say, full of nerves. "I told you that if you wanted to get to know me... all you would have to do is ask like everyone else would. You wouldn't have had to do all of this in trying to keep me locked up in here. We could have met and spent time together if that's what you had wanted that badly from me?"

When I finally shift on the mattress to glance back at him, he hastily looks down at his hands while he fiddles with the belt he used to bind my hands together with while escorting me to the bathroom.

He's back to not wanting to meet my eyes again. I see the way his fingers tremble as he starts making a knot in the tie, like it's absorbing all of his concentration. I know he is just truly afraid to see the fear and desperation in my eyes again like he had while I had pleaded for him to let me go.

"I had Phasma pick up some clothes for you. They're in the dresser near you." It's as though he believes if he goes out of his way to buy me things like clothes, I'll start to warm up to being here."I'm sure they are the right size, because I checked the size of your clothes when I carried you up here. But if they aren't to your liking then I can get her to exchange them for something else you'll like more instead."

"Phasma?" I repeat nervously. Is he not doing this alone? He has others doing this with him? "Who's he? Your accomplice?"

"My accomplice?" He makes a loud exhalation through his mouth at my words. When he glances up at me, his demeanor seems more upbeat. I think it's the happiest I've ever see him. "Of course not. No, she's just someone under my..." He trails off as he realizes what he's let on.

"Under your command?"

"Yes, she's a captain. Sometimes she does errands for me, hence me saying she's under my command."

My mind races. I knew he was rich and powerful but having a captain under your command? Though I still wonder how she would get this sort of thing and not wonder about why she's getting it.

"And what position are you that you can order her around? Colonel? General?" I ask, trying not to let him see my fear. If he's powerful enough he might be able to get away with kidnapping me.

I can sense his nervousness at having let on so much. Yet eventually, he decides to come clean. "I'm actually above that..." He is still nervous but now has a little bit of pride. "I'm second in command of the w-whole army." I feel like he's intentionally omitting the name of his army, but I ignore it. Expecting him to stop talking I start to turn back around.

"I've never actually had a girl here before so she probably suspects something. If that's what you're thinking." He finally meets my gaze, something burning in his gray eyes. It's almost as though he expects me to feel humbled or flattered or something ridiculous like that. Who on earth would possibly feel flattered or humbled about being stolen? "Then again, I think I've been fantasizing about this since the very first moment I met you."

I'm the one that has to glance away, feeling paralyzed and ice-cold in terror at his words. I lift my knees up against my chest. "So you've fantasized about this?" I repeat slowly. "This is what you fantasize about?" It's difficult not to raise my voice in disgust. "You fantasize about having me here like this? Making me cry and making me miserable because you're trapping me here? This is what truly gets you off?"

He's nearly yelling with indignation at this. "Of course not. You're misconstruing my words."

"Am I?" I ask in disbelief. How can I be misconstruing them when he says he has been fantasizing about this? "But isn't that just what you just said? You fantasize about making me miserable and keeping me locked away in here, depriving me of my freedom?"

"I didn't mean it quite that way," he argues back. "I just meant that I've wanted and dreamed of this, the chance for us to get to know each other like this. Not so much... everything else." When I throw a look at him, he has an arm raised, hand resting on his neck, with the other hand holding the dress belt knotted into a tight ball. He's breathing loudly, like I've gotten him on the defensive side. "I wish you wouldn't cry and do what you did before, because... it makes me upset when you do. I had envisioned this to go a whole lot differently than how it seems to be going right now."

"And how did you expect me to react?" I ask with teeth clenched in irritation. "Am I supposed to act pleased that you are doing this to me? Am I supposed to get down on my knees and thank you? Just because I'm poor and you're suddenly giving me all of these nice things. Should I act all merry and happy?" He starts pacing back and forth, with his head hung low. "Can you really blame me for responding like this? Look, I'm sorry that I'm obviously not reacting the way your fantasies played out inside your head, but I... I can't help it!"

He stills from pacing with his back to me, breathing strenuously as he lifts up the front of his black mask over the nape of his neck with his fingers, revealing his chin and the pale muscles of his throat.

"Hot," he breathes quietly, turning to look in my direction again. "I wish I didn't have to wear this stupid kriffing thing. It makes my skin itch and the room feels more... hotter than it likely is."

"Then don't," I suggest readily with a shrug. "Don't bother wearing it then. It's not like I would care either way." But I'm lying, I need to see who he is with a fiery passion. I really, really need to. I need to know who he is so that I can finally make that actual mental connection on where it is that we have met before and just what his possible motives could be. "And besides, you clearly aren't intending to let me go anytime soon. What difference would it make if I saw your face while you keep me here?"

He sighs loudly, staring at me. "But that's the problem. I... I can't let you see my face."

"Why not? Too coward to show me who you really are?"

"It's not that." He pauses for a moment, thinking in deliberation. It's like he can't find the right words. In the end, he lifts his arms in the air before smacking his fists against the side of his legs. "I just...I know you'll find me repulsive."

I find you repulsive already just by keeping me here and not letting me go, so what difference will it make? I want to say to him, but I don't. I didn't particularly like the way he had raised his voice to me before when I begged for him to release me so that I could go back to Jakku. I don't want him doing it again; I don't want to push him too far this time.

"Because I know you? Believe me everyone I know I've known for my whole life. I won't care." I lie. "It'll be fine."

I don't even need to be able to see his face to know he is shocked by what I am saying. I can sense it. I've always had, like a sixth sense about these things.

"No more questions of that right now, Rey. Aren't you going to drink your orange juice?" I can tell he is still disconcerted by my casual mentioning of his face, because there's a look in his eyes. Something... far-away and distant. "After last night, you should definitely keep your hydration up. You must be thirsty."

His eyes flicker towards something across from me meaningfully, and I follow his gaze into the direction of where the glass of orange juice sits on the tray, along with the jug of chilled water. So that's what that was. He's right; I haven't drank it yet, and I do feel thirsty, especially after all the crying and stress he has put me through.

I don't realize how parched my mouth is until I swallow down saliva painfully. The juice- the brightness of it, the orange as bright as a sunset that I will probably never get to see ever again while being confined in this room by him- it teases me. It's tempting me, like it wants me to drink it down itself.

"Don't you like orange juice?" My captor asks softly, probably sensing my indecision. Then he grunts, like he has only just remembered something crucial. "Which reminds me, Rey... we'll have to go through everything later. What you like, what you don't like. What you'd want. All of that, so that I can ensure that you are comfortable here and that you are left wanting nothing. Does that sound reasonable to you?"

"I... I suppose so." I lick my lips, moistening them. "It would be wasted effort, though."

"Oh? And why's that?"

When I bring my eyes to him again, I can sense his confusion like I'm something that's such a mystery to him, something unusual and exotic. I can only just imagine how creepier it will be once he no longer wears that mask in front of me, and yet, his mannerisms are enough alone to do the trick in disturbing me.

"Because nothing you do or give me will ever make me feel comfortable about being stuck here like this," I repeat in exasperation. "No matter how nice you treat me or how... much you make sure I am never without, I cannot be comfortable here like this."

"Then what can I do to ensure that you are?" Does he really even have to ask?

"Freedom," I point out firmly. "Let me go."

"No can do, Rey. Not until I get what I want, and then, we'll see about it."

He is so cryptic with not telling me in full detail of what he wants from me; it's driving me crazy. Some part of me wonders if he is doing it on purpose. "You said that you just want us to get to know each other. Is there... more that I'm missing?"

He hesitates for a moment, considering how to phrase it, it seems. "Partly. There... is more that I want. More than for us to get to know each other... more than anything else. I want you to know me and see me." His eyes drift down towards the left side of my chest, before he returns them to my eyes again. "What's... underneath the skin."

I bite my lip as I think that over for a second. What else could there be unless... he wants my body? My stomach clenches and I feel on the verge of hyperventilating at the idea of that. Please, not my body. Please, I've made it to my twenty second year without being violated. I don't want to end that now.

I decide I don't want to think about it anymore. If I shut it out as best as I am able to for at least awhile- that possibility- then I don't have to feel so much right now.

"Can I have a chronometer?" I ask quietly. It seems a reasonable enough demand. "I would like to have a way to tell time so that I could at least know how long I've been awake."

I can tell he is sickly pleased by my request when he nods. "I think that's allowable, Rey. Yes, you can have a clock to see what time it is." I don't know why he always has to use my name when addressing me.

I hesitate, because I think I already know it would be no good in trying for it. But then I decide that I really have nothing left to lose anymore. "And a change of scenery, I get to go outside into the rest of the ship and not stay confined in this horrible room." I can tell he doesn't feel too enthusiastic about that idea, so I say quickly, "I have a feeling I'll feel claustrophobic in this room. And who knows what I'll do if I get too

claustrophobic?"

I know I'm playing with fire here. Being manipulative even, but I don't care. This is my life he is tampering with here. "I won't ever consider this my home then, if you deny me this one right. Never."

He sighs loudly through his nose, glancing away for a moment. And it all boils down to this one moment...

"All right," he agrees reluctantly after what feels like an eternity, Though I don't want to get my hopes up too much, my heart soars in relief. "I'll think about it... I'd have to disguise you of course."

Disguise me? What the Kriff?

"As a precaution, we're on a cruiser," he explains hastily, perhaps seeing the terror in my eyes. "We're not heading into a battle, I promise."

I'm relieved at that. "I'll agree to not try anything."

"Very well. But if you do end up breaking your promises, I won't let you out there again." As if he feels we have made some good progress for now, he puts his hands on his hips. "Now drink your orange juice or the water. I can't have you dehydrated, Rey."

Though we've made some headway, I can't help tucking my knees into my chest when he starts to approach the bed without warning. He stops abruptly, showing me his hands again. "I won't hurt you like I said," he assures me, and I can tell he means it. Shoving the belt back in his pocket, he reaches down, grabbing the orange juice. "I want you to drink this for me."

I am very thirsty, so I might as well, shouldn't I?

I accept it from him, trying not to show how uneasy it makes me when his fingers brush against mine. Licking my lips again, I press the rim of the glass against them, about to drink. That's when I look up and notice he is watching me peculiarly.

Oh, kriff! He's poisoned it! Put some sedative in it! How could I get so compliant? I can't focus on how good this tastes. I drop the glass back onto the drawer, hardly caring that the contents slop and spill over onto the tray.

"Why did you do that!?" he protests while sounding strangely breathless in confusion. "So you don't like orange juice?"

"I... I don't want it," I protest weakly. "I don't want it if you've slipped something in there. You must have. I... I can sense it.

"What?" He seems puzzled, staring at the glass. Then he looks back at me, and I think I see the recognition dawn into his eyes. He takes the glass, only he doesn't offer it to me again. He lifts up his mask and swallows a few mouthfuls down quickly before putting it back on the drawer. "I haven't put anything into it. See? Wouldn't something have happened to me just then if I had?"

I still don't know whether to trust him. I won't.


	5. Music

My captor honors my request. He disappears then returns with a chronometer and some form of adhesive. He asks me where I want it to hang on the wall, and when I point out where I believe it would look best in the room, he actually listens to me.

So far, he has been treating me well. He hasn't physically violated me, just deny me of freedom which I suppose is cruel enough. He seems so far just a messed up, lonely guy. Maybe something happened to him to make him this way? But so far, he has been treating me well to an extent. That is probably only because I have been here less than over five hours since first waking in the bed. The time on the chronometer says it's at 1200 hours. I probably haven't been here as long as I thought I had been so far but... being in a room like this, I can tell the time will tend to go dreadfully slower already.

"I also have a gift for you that I feel you will appreciate."

"Okay?" I tense up as he leaves the room for a moment. Who knows what he will feel is a fitting gift for me? I am almost expecting him to bring in the bloody, sawn-off head or a freshly dead corpse.

I wish he would forget and leave his weapon in here. My fingers crave to grasp the hilt, to take a swing. I imagine myself doing that: He returns into the room, unknowing. First, I would swing hard enough to his head so that he would be knocked down. Then I would take off that stupid mask so that I can finally see who he is, figure out why he is doing this to me. Then I'd swing again, watching the blood splatter across the floor brilliantly red in color.

Even just imagining it, it makes my stomach churn because I know he'll never mess up like that and I'll likely die in here.

To my relief, he doesn't bring a dismembered head in or anything bloodied like that. He just brings in a thick brown parcel. As he hands it to me, I feel the weight of it, the heaviness.

"What is it?" I ask cautiously.

When I look up at him, I find him standing over me, almost on pins-and-needles to see what my reaction is to the gift. I have no idea what it could be, but what I do hope is that it isn't something just as sick as he obviously is.

"Don't ask me what it is, Rey." _Why does he say my name so much?_ "Doesn't that defeat the whole purpose of giving someone a gift? I want to see your reaction to it." Swallowing down my fear, I start opening the parcel.

Inside, there is a headset-helmet looking thing. A flight simulator. _How much did this cost?_

He knows what my pastime is. How? I don't remember showing anyone that, well no one ever cam to my house.

And this is a new version too. Unlike the one I one it's shiny and new with a sleek design. And that same insignia.

I would have appreciated it more if it hadn't told me one important, terrifying thing, though: That this man, whoever he is, knows I used to dream of flying. If he knows about that, then what else does he somehow know about me?

"This is brand new," I whisper in shock, turning over the new headset I see a little dust. "How did you know I liked flying?"

"You told me when we first met."

I told him when we first met? I know this is a lie immediately. I've never told anyone I've wanted to fly because I never really talk to people. I try to play along anyway as to not let him know I don't trust him.

"When did we first meet?"

He hesitates for a moment, lifting a hand to rub his fingers along his shoulder. I know its because he is worried that I will finally connect all the dots and have a epiphany on who he is. "About three months ago, I would say it was."

Three months ago? Then its truly no wonder why I wouldn't remember. I have done a lot in these past two months; A ship crashed down near where I lived.

"And I told you that flying was my dream?"

"You did. Do you like it?"

"Yes, I do." I hesitate to say it, because I don't want him to get the wrong impression. I don't want him to think I am thanking him for so many other things, like keeping me here against my will, that I am both forgiving him and excusing him for this. But I can't not show my manners and say it. "Thank you. These are... great. I know they are expensive, though?

"Sixteen thousand credits," he admits, sounding hopeful, like he's looking to impress me. "I paid _sixteen_ thousand altogether."

 _Kriff, that's a lot of money spent for a gift for me..._

"It's like I told you," he continues when I fail to say anything in response. I'm speechless that he would go to such trouble for me. "I have a lot of money to spare. It was worth it, just to get a glimpse of the look on your face once you opened it and saw what it was."

"Well, thank you," I force myself to say again. "It's... kind of you."

His gray eyes light up. I have him pleased. "You're very welcome."

On the bright side, it will make my time here go by quicker. I can practice until hopefully I can find some way to escape from this prison that he has me in. I set it down on the floor near the bed.

"I'll have to get you a shelf."

"How long do you expect me to stay here? A couple of weeks? A month at the most?" The question comes out of my mouth without any control. I guess its crucial that I know if he intends to keep me here forever. _Please don't want me here forever._

"For however long it takes."

I lift my eyes, meeting where his would be on the mask. A surge of irritation blows through me. _Why can't he just spell it out completely for me already? What the hell does he expect from me?_

"For however long _what_ takes?"

"I can't say just yet."

"Why not?" I probe in frustration. "Why can't you just say already?"

"Because I can't. If I do then... it won't happen the way it needs to."

He is driving me crazy. Why the cryptic words? Or is he doing it on purpose?He wants me to feel this way; Hopeless and frustrated, going out of my mind wondering what he is trying to say between the lines?

I can tell he is uncomfortable over my staring, because he turns on his side. "Tomorrow I have to work," he bursts out unexpectedly. I think he is trying to change the subject. "I won't be here tomorrow to talk to you for over eight hours."

"So you'll be gone for eight hours to work?"

"Yes."

 _Kriff, eight hours._ I feel my heart rate pick up, my breathing becoming even shallower. "And what about me?" I ask, the fear breaking through in my voice. "What am I supposed to do for eight hours straight while you keep me locked in here? I'll need to go to the bathroom and... and I know I won't be able to hold off for that long?"

"Well, I was thinking of actually keeping the door unlocked while I'm gone." Just like that, his words take all my fears and stresses away. It's like the weight of a full-grown hutt has been lifted off my shoulders. "There wouldn't be much point to keep you locked in here for eight full hours and, as you just said... you'll need to use the bathroom."

"You'd leave the door unlocked for me while you're working?" I ask slowly, wanting to be sure I've heard right. I don't want to get my hopes up.

"I would. I _will_."

"Aren't you... worried about me somehow escaping, though?"

Finally, he turns his head, meeting my gaze again. There's something there in his eyes. Something cruel and all-too knowing. "You won't escape and you can't," he says confidently. I think I hear a singing taunting tone in his voice. "As I said before, I have been... fantasizing about having you here with me ever since we first met. That's over two months of planning."

 _What? So he had planned to do this to me all along in kidnapping me? Holding me here against my will in this room? This was all... premeditated and thought out carefully._

"I used to sit in here once I got home from work. This _very_ room." His eyes dance around the room meaningfully. "I would even think about all the potential ways in which you would attempt to escape. There is really no point in keeping you locked solely in this room when the rest of my quarters are just as safe."

I think I am actually starting to hate him as I look at him. There is an air of superiority that wasn't there before, a smugness. How could someone be so cruel as to intentionally rub it all in my face?

"I don't get visitors so there is no danger there of anyone ever noticing I have you here. No one could hear you scream or cry for help, because there's... just me here. It would _only_ be _me_."

I feel something crack and break within me at his words, finally. Something that was just about to break within me, but hadn't as yet. Along with the realization of just how alone I am, how helpless I am. He's done this to me. He's thought about it for _two whole months_ , planning everything so I could never break free.

"I have also taken the liberty of turning all the holos in the area. We can't risk you calling anyone now, could we? I am not stupid enough to have any oversights, if that's what you are thinking? Also, you can only exit the rooms by elevator where you need a key card. And _who_ has all the key cards to use it?"

" _Get out_ ," I seethe. " _Leave_ me alone!"

When he makes no move to leave and I see him just standing there, that something breaks within me, well and truly. I fling myself off the bed at him. Before I can stop myself or even think of no good reason not to, I raise my arm and my hand collides with the side of his face. I hit him as hard as I possibly can. I don't know whether the stupid mask cushions him, lessening the pain of my slap. But I hope not.

All I know, is that my slap is enough to knock his head down and to the side.

Realizing my mistake, I inch back away from him, crying loudly, waiting and expecting for him to retaliate unpleasantly. Only he doesn't. He simply stands there, breathing heavily, head down towards the ground. Why isn't he lashing back? What? Is he some kind of masochist that gets off on being hit by me?

 _Can he even see how crazy he is? How crazy everything about this is at all?_

"I want to be alone and I _don't want_ to talk to you anymore," I shout in hysteria. "Why can't you _see_ that? Or are you _that_ delusional?"

I don't stand around and watch him when he does eventually leave. Instead, I throw myself down on the mattress. _What did I do to deserve this? Am I such a bad person to him? What the kriff does he expect from me?_

When I wake, I'm still in bed with the blankets over me, shrouded in darkness. I have no idea what time it is and I suppose I should turn on the light to check the chronometer on the wall, but I decide I can't be bothered. Shifting over onto my back, I listen carefully for him, looking around.

The door is still open and unlocked, but as far as I can tell, he isn't anywhere in the room with me. He finally got the message that I didn't care for talking with him, it seems. _Thank you._

I think I hear something, though. Music drifts from out in another room. On Jakku I almost never heard anything besides pop music being played. Is he listening to music? I may not know a lot about music but it feels like a deep dark depression again over the hopelessness of my situation. It's a sad melody on a strange instrument, sounding like an actually mourned death.

Why would he want to listen to such depressing stuff? Or is that him? The music matches how he feels on the inside; Depressed and lonely?

It dawns onto me that I need to use the refresher. Sliding out of the sheets, I rush towards the opened door, checking to make sure he isn't near before I get into the bathroom, closing the door on myself. After I go, I run water in the sink, cupping my hands underneath it to splash my face. Then I decide I feel thirsty, so I cup some more, slurping in as much tap water as I am able to.

I feel wide awake and alert right now. And hungry; I haven't eaten anything all day. He hasn't given me anything but orange juice and water.

Too depressed to sleep, I open the refresher door, trying to be as quiet as possible. The haunting foreign music attacks my ears again, poignant with sorrow, as I pad my way along the hallway, coming to a winding stairs. I think he is down there, somewhere. I start stepping down the cold stairs on tiptoes, holding my breath for fear he will discover me. In just my dress, its freezing but I need to know more on what the house I'm trapped in looks like.

Also, if I could find out where he put my bag from last night. It has some semi valuable metals which really pale in comparison to my new surroundings. in

On the last step, that's when I see him. It isn't an actual holo he is playing. It's him. He sits at a large black wooden... device, but its too dark to properly see him. I can't tell whether he is still wearing that mask or not, not when the entire house is dim and filled with shadows. But because he is there, the one person I don't want to have to deal with right now, I change direction, heading furthest away from him and the piano as possible.

At least the music drowns me out when my bare feet slap against the floor. There's another room and I sneak into it, a lamp on in the corner illuminating my surroundings. I think its his bedroom, considering there is a large untouched bed there. Maybe he hasn't slept yet? Maybe he can't? The fact that he isn't asleep pleasures me in what is probably a cruel way. At least I'm not alone in suffering right now. I hope he is that ill with guilt that he can't sleep, that its keeping him up. No matter where I look around in the room, I can't seem to see my bag anywhere.

As I step deeper into the room, looking around as my feet scuff against the carpet, that's when it hits me.

It takes all I have not to yelp when a short stabbing pain shoots through my right foot.

"Kriff," I whimper out. "Oh, God."

I've tread on something, though I don't know what. Supporting myself upright with a shoulder against the wall to keep balance, I lift up my foot, inspecting it. Already, I'm bleeding a decent amount, but I can't tell whats caused it. When I glance down at the floor again and into another open room that must be his bathroom, it occurs to me. Glass.

The mirror in the refresher is all smashed in, sharp shards littering everywhere. It must have been what I trod on, but why would he smash the mirror in? Why? I wonder. Because he hates his face that much? His reflection and the way he looks?

I'm so wrapped up in the aching pain passing through my foot that it takes me a second too late to realize the piano music has stopped. And then, his voice right behind me.

"What _do you think_ you are doing in here, Rey?"


	6. Night

Before I know what's come over me, I slather the blood around on my foot with my fingers, hoping to make it look worse than it probably truly is before he manages to see me. I am sort of naively hoping that if it does look too gruesome, then he will have no choice but to release me and take me somewhere.

If he was any decent, he _would_ take me somewhere to treat my foot with no hesitation.

"I think I need to get a bacta treatment," I breathe, trying to sound in a really bad way. I have never been a particularly good actress, but I pray that it will work for me now. "I cut my foot on some glass. It's bleeding pretty profusely."

"Well, what were you doing in here in the first place?" It's like he is scolding me.

"I was looking for my stuff," I admit, deciding to be honest. I can't think up a good enough excuse right now anyway. My emotions are everywhere. "From last night? Where did you put it?"

I brace myself before hopping around to face him. I am almost tingling with anticipation, wondering what I will see. Is he still wearing that stupid thing over his face? Will I finally at last get to see who my captor is? My hopes are dashed though when I turn my head to find him wearing that stupid mask again, his face flying downwards to where my bleeding foot is. Doesn't he ever take it off? Does he wear it in the 'fresher even?

He isn't wearing the same clothes as before, at least. He's wearing a pair of light grey pants and a blue, short-sleeved shirt that is fairly tight. Just by looking at him alone, I know he has to be fairly young and not much older than me. He isn't some old, chubby pervert obviously. He keeps himself in good shape.

I hear him give out a heavy sigh as he shakes his head slightly. "You shouldn't have come in here. Your stuff isn't in here."

"Then where is it? Why can't I have it back?"

He ignores me. "Sit on the bed," he murmurs, lifting one hand, pointing. "I have a first aid kit in the kitchen. I'll go get it."

He's not falling for it. Why can't he just believe me and take me to a medical droid or something?

"There's a piece of glass stuck in my foot, wedged in pretty deep," I say, though even to my own ears I don't sound all that convincing. "Plus, I'm starting to feel... lightheaded." I make myself breathe loudly and shallowly. "I haven't eaten or drank anything all day. I think the blood loss is getting to me. I need treatment."

Just when I am starting to think its working, he sighs again. "Sit on the bed." He steps closer towards me, vaguely threatening. "I won't ask you again."

Resigning to defeat, I hop towards the bed ungraciously, making sure I don't tread on my injured foot. As soon as my backside hits the mattress, he leaves to find the first aid kit. I let out a growl of frustration, hitting my thighs with two clenched fists. God, why can't he just believe me? Why can't he just pity me and let me leave?

The fact that he didn't take the bait, that he didn't offer to take me somewhere, it leaves me feeling even more depressed and aching with despair. He'll never let me go, obviously. Even if I managed to slice a finger off, he probably wouldn't let me go either way. No matter how much I pleaded or how much in agony I was.

I think I _really am_ starting to hate him. Seeing as he is keeping me here like this, I think its perfectly understandable.

I suppose the only way I can think of to ever escape and be free is to give him what he wants. Let him "get to know me". I don't even think I fully understand what that means.

If he wants to be friends with me, it would only be like play pretend. I would only be pretending because, who can possibly want to be friends with the person that is doing this to them? It's hard to not want to let him "get to know me" or for me with him when he is the one taking away my freedom, fresh air, sunlight, and so many other things.

The crunching of glass with his shoes alerts me to his return. I watch him grudgingly as he pulls an armchair from in the corner of the room closer to where I am sitting on the bed, something he does so effortlessly it makes it hauntingly apparent to me yet again that he is so much stronger physically than I am, the muscles in his light forearm flexing.

At least he knew to wear shoes. It's not my fault this happened though. He has taken my belongings from last night, doing heaven knows what with them. _What need could he have for them anyway?_

I don't want him touching me at all. But I'm not going to get that wish, not when he takes my cut foot in his hands, placing it in the middle of his lap. It's hard not to wriggle about or not follow through on the very satisfying urge to kick him away.

"It's not so deep," he says after a long moment of inspecting my foot. "You wouldn't need to go to the medbay for this."

 _Rich enough to be able to take me to the medbay?_

"I feel faint, though," I say, trying again. "I bet its from the blood loss. I need a bacta patch. If you could just take me-"

"-No, _no_ medbay," he speaks over me through gritted teeth, meeting my gaze. I see light brown, wiry eyebrows above his eyes through the eye-holes as he squints at me in frustration. "I know what you are doing, Rey, and it isn't going to work."

At that, I try to fling my foot free but he catches it with his hand, pressing down with his fingers over my ankle to keep it still. It isn't painful, like he is trying to hurt me and make a show of it. It's just a firm, tight clasp.

"Stop moving otherwise I won't be able to fix it."

"Good then. I don't want _you_ to fix it, I want a droid to fix it."

"Well, tough. This is what you are going to get." The words are low and soft, but definitely menacing. It's enough to make my blood run ice-cold. "If you keep insisting on moving about, then I have no qualms about tying your arms to the headboard so you'll keep still long enough. Is that what you want?"

He blinks at me slowly as he waits for an answer. _He's being serious about that!_

"No, I don't want that," I whisper sullenly after a second. "Of course I don't."

"Then keep still."

His hand is still clasping tight over my ankle when he reaches down to get something. I don't know what that something is, until I see its a set of tweezers.

"I need to remove the shard of glass first," he explains, quite calmly. "It's probably going to be the only painful thing about this. Make sure you keep absolutely still."

I hate myself for getting into this situation, but I guess he right. There is no other choice but to remove the glass first.

I shut my eyes tight, feeling nauseous. It would have helped if I had eaten something today. On an empty stomach, I just feel flat-out queasy. I guess that isn't anything new though; I hate the sight of blood. I especially hate pain, and that's what I get, when I feel him tugging at something with the tweezers. I don't bother asking to check and see whether he got the piece of glass out successfully though; I really don't want to know.

When I find enough courage to peek at what he is doing, he has a bottle of a yellow liquid in his hands. As he uncaps it, he pours a decent amount into a tissue and then I'm off hissing in pain again at the stinging and trying not to move when he dabs the tissue into my skin gently. I think its antibacterial stuff, but I can't be too sure.

"All done now," he says distractedly while throwing the paper in the bin near his bed.

He hardly sounds grossed out by the blood or my cut foot at all; It's as though he is completely unfazed by it all, which is weird. Maybe he's just sadistic and likes seeing blood and people injured?

"Now we just need to bandage it up." He's talking to himself, so I don't bother saying anything. I focus on keeping as still as possible while trying to breathe slow and steady as he undoes the packaging of the bandage. "How are we doing over there?" he asks with concern. I don't actually realize he is talking to me until I glance up at him, finding his gray eyes watching me through the holes of his balaclava speculatively. "I think this is the quietest you have been since waking here?"

"Thank you," I force myself to say weakly. "It feels a lot... better now without the glass in it."

"Your welcome." He nods once, something disturbing glistening there in his eyes. "See." I feel all the tension leave my body once he averts my eyes, unrolling the bandage out. He clears his throat as he holds my foot in the air about an inch by my toes, then he starts applying the bandage, wrapping it around and around. "This is what I can do for you, Rey. It's all I have ever wanted."

I have no idea what he is talking about. I part my lips, hesitating to ask the question. I'm petrified already that he will say something sick, something that illustrates just how much of a psycho he really is. "What do you mean, about this being what you can do for me?"

"Taking care of you." He lifts his head, meeting my eyes again, something weirdly intense there. "I can take good care of you. I can be... good to you."

 _He can take good care of me? Who says I want to be taken care of?_

"I don't need to be taken care of by anybody," I mutter. "I don't want anyone to take care of me."

"We all need to be taken care of, in one way or another. I think its in our basic human nature; We all want to be cherished and taken care of, even if we are... too _stubborn_ to admit it to ourselves."

I really wish he would quit it with the confusing remarks already. It's the most frustrating thing in the world; the fact that I can't work him out. It would be easier to find out what he wants if he could just be straightforward with me. I could escape from this hell quicker.

Maybe I should try to play along, for the time being? I just don't know where to start though. That fear inside of me refuses to leave, and I still feel on-edge and in a constant state of distress. I feel I am walking on egg-shells right now, with wanting to not say something wrong in case he refuses to let me leave for good. I have to play this right. But how?

My mind goes blank when it dawns onto me just what his finger is doing to me as he holds my ankle in his lap. His forefinger runs back and forth along my big toe, like he is petting me, caressing me. It makes my stomach churn and I feel like I want to gag. I don't think he realizes he is doing it, though. He's too preoccupied with staring into my eyes while we talk. _What the hell is all that about?_

Now what to talk about? I search my brain frantically. I can hardly think properly while feeling him stroking me repeatedly with his finger. Why is he touching me like he assumes I'll enjoy it? Or maybe its _him_ that's enjoying touching me?

Instantly, I remember his reaction when he had touched my cheek with his hand. He had closed his eyes, like he was in ecstasy. Is that why he is doing this? He... has some kind of infatuation with me? God, even thinking about it makes me feel sick. Surely that can't be it, right? I mean, what's so special about me?

 _Think, though_. Say something like he interests you that much...

"Why... why is the mirror smashed in your bathroom?" It's the only thing I am able to come up with.

Finally, he stops stroking me with his finger. He glances down, grasping my foot in both hands before setting it back down on the floor. I think I've gone and done it then. I've failed in seeming like I want to get to know him.

"Did you do that yourself? You... smashed it?" It's a stupid question, I know. _Of course_ he did that himself.

When he lifts a hand to run his fingers over his face, I see something on his gloves. The dried blood. The guy obviously isn't a fan of his own reflection. No surprises there, though... seeing as he won't even let me see his face because he assumes he will repulse me. I can't help the unwanted pang of pity that goes through me at the sight of his knuckles though. I don't want to feel that way towards him, but it just can't be helped.

"Your knuckles were bleeding?" I whisper sadly. "You smashed the mirror in with your hand?"

"What?" He turns his hand, glancing down at his battered knuckles himself. Then he shrugs, uncaring. "It's nothing."

"Why?" I shouldn't be asking, because a part of me knows its a touchy subject for him, yet I can't stop myself. " _Why_ would you do that? Do you hate your reflection that badly?"

Without warning, he stands from the chair, shoving it in the corner roughly. He stands with his back to me a long moment, and I know for sure then that I have gone and done it. I've ruined it _already_.

"You should go to bed. It's late." He's dismissing me. "Let me know if your foot still hurts or if it bleeds through the bandage and I will replace it with a clean one."

I don't want to get him angry again. I've obviously put my foot in it again. Sleeping is the last thing I know I will be able to do, especially when I am so hungry, but I do it, getting to my feet and carefully treading on my right foot so as not to aggravate it and make it hurt again.

I don't look his way as I start limping upstairs to the room. I listen carefully with my ears to make sure he doesn't follow me up. As far as I can tell, he doesn't.

When I crawl back onto the mattress under the sheets, I shove the side of my face into the pillows, trying to urge sleep to come to me. It's uncomfortable because I have to restrict movement on my injured foot, but hopefully it heals rather quickly. My stomach hurts though; It keeps reminding me how hungry I am, that I need to eat something soon, but I try to block it out.

I've barely just started to doze off when I hear the alarming sound of footsteps against the floorboards. My eyes pop open and I sit up, immediately on alert. He's come into the room. Now what the hell is he going to do to me?

Holding the blankets to my chest as tightly as possible, I start shaking uncontrollably when I feel the mattress lurch and depress as he sits beside me. I can hardly see him because the room is that dark; But if I look hard enough, I think I can see the outline of him. His body, and the shape of his head. I can hear him breathing deeply.

"What?" I get out anxiously. "What is it?"

He moves towards me and I know he's going to do it then. He's going to rape me or force himself onto me or do _something_.

I feel his fingers curl over my wrists and he yanks, but I refuse

to let go of the blanket. I won't.

"Piss off." It tears out of my mouth angrily before I can help it. "Don't do anything to me! I don't want it!"

The tears escape my eyes and I start sobbing as he manages to loosen my hold on the blankets. And then, doing the very last thing I expect of him, he ducks his head into my protesting hands, and I feel it.

 _No mask?_

He makes me touch his face, starting from his hair, holding my wrists and guiding my hands, running my fingers and palms over warm skin and prickly stubble from an unshaven chin. My blurry eyes widen in fear when he guides my trembling hands down the curve of his chin and towards his hot throat.

"Can you feel it?" He pants roughly, his voice strained. He guides my hands over his face again, making me touch him for a second time. "Feel how disgusting I am, just like _he_ always said I was. I should have aborted you while I had the chance... you're unclean... filthy..." The words come out fast and rapid, a tinge of hatred there. "This is what happens when you refuse to be quiet... Go stand under there and think about what you've done, you little shit..."

As his breathing dies down, he releases my hands, shifting away from me on the bed. I think I see him put his head in his hands, but its really too dark. What the hell just happened? I stare into the darkness; stunned, frozen and too frightened to make a single movement in case he does something else. Someone did this to him, I hurt him when he was a child.


End file.
